


Scar

by MagicalStranger13



Category: Strange Magic (2015)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-08
Updated: 2016-04-08
Packaged: 2018-06-01 02:51:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6497932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagicalStranger13/pseuds/MagicalStranger13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Poor baby Bog is teething!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scar

**Author's Note:**

> Got inspired and wrote this last night. Enjoy!

“WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!!  AAAAHHHHAAAA!!!  WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!!”

Briar clutched his head and growled angrily at the dreadful, piercing sound of his six month old son, Bog, screaming his scaly little head off.  Across the room, his poor wife sluggishly paced back and forth, patting the fussing infant on the back.

Neither of them had gotten any sleep for the past _three_ days in a row.  No matter what they tried, Bog would just not calm down.

“The midwife says his teeth are growing bigger.”  Griselda had explained after the first terrible night.  “It’s hurting his gums.” 

Over forty-eight hours later, and they hadn’t _stopped_ hurting for even a _single_ minute!

Briar was about to blow his stack.

Since Bog’s teeth were too sensitive to chew, everything he ate had to be pre-ground.  Giving him a fresh cut of frog, venison, or rabbit, just frustrated him.  A goblin baby his age needed, and _wanted_ , all the meat it could get, so Bog had unfortunately, rejected all the vegetable and fruit wedges they’d given him to nibble on as alternatives, and all the herbal pastes they’d used to numb the pain either didn’t work at all, or tasted so bad, Bog spit it up and cried even harder.  

As if providence was playing a cruel joke, Griselda shifted her grip on Bog, causing him to accidently bump his chin against her shoulder.  The sound he made was as shrill as a screech owl shattering glass. 

“ _Confound_ it, woman!”  Briar exclaimed, jerking away from the wall he’d been leaning on.  “Can’t ye make ‘im _shut up_?!”

Griselda whirled around to face her husband.  Her bristly red hair was frazzled around her head, making her look manic, and her puffy, bloodshot eyes glared blazing, coal-black daggers.

“Oh, I’m _sorry_!”  She snapped.  “It _that_ what you wanted me to do?!  _Gee_ , I thought you _liked_ all this _racket!_   Lord knows, _I_ do!”

Normally, Briar would’ve caved with a pout under _this_ strong of a sarcastic retort from his wife, but their mutual exhaustion and irritation just made them snarl at each other like wolves.  

“ _I_ never went through _anythin_ ’ like _this_!  I _told_ ye, ye’ve been _coddlin’_ ‘im too much!”

“Why you crusty old _maggot_!  I do _not_ coddle him!  I’m doing the best I can to _comfort_ him because he’s in _pain_!  And until you come up with a better idea than just _bitching_ at _me_ , then _you_ can shut up, for all I care!”  

Hearing his parents arguing, Bog let loose another deafening shriek, and Griselda resumed her pacing with a weary sigh.

“Oh, _honey_!”  She begged, trying to gently rock her son.  “I know it hurts, sweetheart, but I’ve given you all the medicine I _can_!  Mommy and Daddy are very, _very_ tired.  So please, please, **_please_** just go to _sleep_!” 

Her plea went unheeded.  Instead, Griselda cringed as Bog’s volume rose to impossible heights.

That _did_ it. 

Briar dragged his claws down his face and swore a raging oath before stomping over to his wife and child.

“I can’t _stand_ this another _minute_!”  He shouted, reaching for the infant.  “ _Give_ ‘im tah me!”

“Oh Briar, no!”  Griselda weakly protested, her ire forgotten as quickly as it’d come, but she was too worn out to resist as her husband firmly extracted Bog from her grasp.

Automatically, Bog’s wee fingers came up to grab at his tear-stained cheeks.

“BOG!”  Briar roared, brushing his son’s arms away from his face.  “THA’ IS _ENOUGH_!”

At that precise moment, Bog’s mouth opened wide and he sank his tiny fangs into the meat of Briar’s right thumb. 

Everything came to an immediate halt. 

Bog whimpered for a few more seconds, but finally relaxed with a few muted hums and began to gnaw and suckle on his father’s hand.  His small fists lazily rested against Briar’s arm, as if to hold him there.  Content, his blue eyes drifted shut. 

Almost unable to believe her eyes, Griselda had to press a palm to her lips to keep from squealing in victory and/or gushing at the precious sight.   

Briar...

.

.

.

…could do nothing but stand there, frozen; _staring_ at his baby boy.     

For a long while, neither parent moved a muscle, too afraid that more wails would break the blessed silence…….but Bog remained docile as a snail.   

“Quit lookin’ at me like that!”  Briar hissed, just then noticing the gleam in his wife’s eye.

“Oh, _darling_!”  She teased.  “You’re so _cute_!”

“Cut it _out_!”

The Briar Queen giggled quietly at her king’s bashful grumpiness, but soon grew contemplative.

“I guess…,” she whispered, “…he just needed something to put…pressure on his teeth that didn’t taste awful and…wasn’t food.  I think your scent helps too.”

“Aye……go on tah bed now.”

“ _What_?”

“I’ll take care o’ him.  Ye ge’ some rest.”

Griselda knew this was Briar’s way of apologizing for being such an ass earlier, but he didn’t marry her for her compliance! 

“Briar, you _can’t_ stay up another night!  You need rest too!”

“I’ll be fine.”

“I’m not gonna leave you in here _alone_!”

“Yes, ye _are_!  I _said_ , I’ll be _fine_.  Now ge’ _outta_ here, will ye?!”

“Dear, you’re _bleeding_!”

Glancing down, Briar could see the crimson liquid rimming around Bog’s lips. 

“It doesnae hurt.  Dorn’t worry about it; jus’ go tah bed, like I told ye!”

Griselda’s stubborn objection died in her throat as a yawn took over.  She really was dead on her feet and in serious danger of collapsing.  Eventually, she gave up, (if her husband shuffling her out the door _counted_ as giving up), trudged into the bedchamber, and was out cold before her head hit the pillow. 

 

* * *

 

The next morning, when Griselda tiptoed back to the nursery and peeked inside, her heart nearly burst with happiness at what she saw:

Briar was fast asleep and sitting on the window seat, with his head bowed and his spindly knees drawn up.  Bog, still with his father’s hand in his mouth, was nestled in the makeshift lap-cradle of chitin scales, sleeping soundly as if it was the softest bed of cotton and moss. 

The two crooked, crescent moon scars that Bog’s teething bite left behind never faded, and were secretly, always Briar’s favorite of his many ‘battle’ marks.

**Author's Note:**

> Leave comments or kudos, please!  
> <3


End file.
